Eye of the Moonrat (The Bowl of Souls: Book One)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  Justan knew he had to be careful. The emotions coming from Gwyrtha made it hard to distinguish her thoughts from his own. He could not afford that kind of distraction in the heat of battle. The only thing that had saved him in the fight so far was the fact that she thought in such different terms than him. He wrestled with the chaos of thoughts plunging through his mind. Somehow, he was able to grasp the foreign thoughts and mute them, pushing the feeling of fear away.

  The rhythmic pounding from the unknown threat was getting louder, and soon Justan and Gwyrtha weren’t the only ones to notice. Several of the moonrats scurried off toward the beating sound.

  “What is it?” Justan shouted at Gwyrtha as he ran another beast through with a quick thrust. In response, a rush of information came through their bond and Justan was flooded with images that came so fast that they were hard to follow. He saw menacing figures with massive arms and hairy faces roaring and clubbing others of Gwyrtha’s kind. These images were interlaced with feelings of fear and sorrow. The visions became unbearably intense and he had to force them away as several more of the moonrats attacked.

  The menace came closer and Gwyrtha was frozen with intense terror. As she stood immobilized, several moonrats swarmed over her, biting and clawing. The pain jolted her out of her fear and she rolled over, crushing the creatures that clung to her back. Gwyrtha tore into the remaining ones with teeth and claw, killing them quickly. More moonrats came out of the shadows to take their place, and she backed away growling.

  Justan swung his swords in curving arcs that kept the creatures at bay. The newfound control over his body allowed him to dance about the beasts, giving him the extra room needed to make successful attacks. Without that extra bit of control he would most likely have died several times over. A new problem was arising. His calf was stiffening up. The nasty beast must have bitten deep into his muscle.

  Justan turned briefly to see Gwyrtha roll about and crush several moonrats. The pounding sound was closer yet. He could sense that she was beginning to panic. If he didn’t do something quickly, she was going to flee and he would be left alone.

  Justan burst his sword though one moonrat’s glowing eye and into its brain. As the beast squirmed in its death throes, he picked it up over his head. Ignoring the damage inflicted on him by its flailing limbs, he threw the creature into the milling mass of moonrats attacking Gwyrtha. The others pounced on the new meat and fought each other for it.

  He reached Gwyrtha’s side just as she was about to run and grasped her head in his hands. He didn’t know what this connection between them was or how it worked, but he figured that if she could send thoughts and emotions to him, he could do the same to her. She nearly snapped at him in her fear, but he sent soothing emotions through to her from the bond they shared. She whimpered and tried to pull away. The rhythmic pounding of the new threat was almost upon them and the moonrats would not be distracted for long. Justan threw his heart into it.

  “It will be okay,” Justan said aloud and sent to her through the bond, “Whatever this is, I will help you defeat it.” He tried to send as much calm and assurance with those words as possible, and it seemed to have some effect because she stopped struggling. It was just in time, too, for the new presence let itself be known.

  The oncoming creature roared. Though Justan could not see it through the trees, he heard a concussive thud and a moonrat flew threw the air in a misshapen tangle as if its bones were pulverized. Suddenly Justan’s forced calm was replaced by sheer elation, for he recognized the roar of this beast.

  “Lenny!” he shouted. In response there was a loud thud followed by another flying moonrat and a stream of obscure curses. He turned to Gwyrtha and sent a stream of encouraging images. This new arrival was not a threat, but a friend. She snarled as the dwarf came into sight and Justan was forced to stand by her, holding her head and stroking her mane, trying to calm her. He did not want to see either of his new friends hurt by each other.

  Lenny fought with precision, shaping his enemies as if they were but hot metal at the forge, every strike crushing bones and rupturing organs. Buster hummed and each hit brought an explosion of concussive power. The dwarf saw Justan standing there with the large beast and cursed up a foul storm, using obscenities so strange that Justan was sure that he made them up on the spot.

  “Garlfriggin’, hoopskirtin’, son of a . . .” He sputtered. “Boy! Get your dag-flamed hind end over here! You think I’m gonna kill all these damned things by myself?”

  At that moment, even more chittering moans and yelps erupted from the forest around them and a score more moonrats attacked from out of the trees. Some of them leaped on the carcasses of their fallen brothers, while others attacked the three strangers to their world. Justan found himself laughing despite the overwhelming odds. With Lenny there, he grew excited about the fight. Justan quickly sent another burst of comfort to reassure Gwyrtha that his friend would not hurt her. Then he released her head and leapt into the fray.

  Justan had so much that he wanted to ask the dwarf, but the fighting was too fierce for Justan and Lenny to communicate. He could sense that Gwyrtha joined in the battle as well. She leaped into the air, ripping moonrats out of the trees, while Justan danced amongst the crazed beasts, putting eyes out and slicing open throats with his blades. Lenny’s fighting style was more direct. He just cursed and beat the evil moonrats into pieces.

  Even with his new burst of stamina that came through the bond, Justan grew weary. His moves became less precise. Fortunately for the friends, as the sun grew higher in the sky, the moonrats seemed to lose their taste for the fight. Some just scurried away, while others, engorged from feasting on their dead, simply lay on the ground panting, too bloated to move.

  The fight wound down until Justan dispatched the last persistent moonrat with a skull splitting chop. His sword was wedged into the bone and he had to kick at the convulsing beast several time in order to wrench the blade loose. Justan turned to his friends but didn’t have time to celebrate. Another struggle was brewing.

  Lenny and Gwyrtha had locked eyes. Gwyrtha growled a deep sound that came from the back of her throat. She swung into offensive posture, as if about to pounce. The dwarf, on the other hand, was staring at her with open admiration. He made no move to defend himself.

  “Son, do you got any idea what this thing is?”

  Justan kept a wary eye on Gwyrtha and answered. “No, Lenny, I don’t. But don’t make any sudden moves. She doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

  “I can’t say as I blame it,” he remarked absently. “Sonny, that there is a rogue horse. It’s a beauty at tha-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because at that moment, Gwyrtha attacked.

  She knocked the dwarf off his feet and pinned him to the ground with her considerable weight, digging into his chest with her claws. Lenny sputtered a few curses. She bit down on his head.

  “NO!” Justan shouted with all his might and Gwyrtha stopped just shy of breaking the dwarf’s neck. She froze, and looked at him with her large intelligent eyes. Lenny was wisely silent. Justan send her mental images as he spoke. “Gwyrtha, he is a friend.”

  Justan pulled up memories of Lenny fighting along side of him and laughing with him over the fire. She resisted and without knowing how he was doing it, Justan pushed all of his feelings of goodwill and admiration for the dwarf over to her through their bond. She struggled against the feelings at first. Then with reluctance, Gwyrtha released Lenny’s head from her powerful jaws and sauntered away. She left grudgingly, but accepted Justan’s feelings. She would wait and see. If the dwarf was found untrustworthy, she would kill it later.

  Justan sighed in relief and went to check on his friend. Lenny’s head was surrounded in wounds from Gwyrtha’s sharp teeth and they were bleeding profusely. The dwarf didn’t seem to notice, though. He sat up and gazed at Justan in wonderment.

  “Well, I’ll be. I don’t know how you dun it, boy, but thanks fer stoppin’ the beast.” A row of nasty punctur
es traveled from his jaw up onto the side of his head. “It’s amazin’. I didn’t know there was any of em’ left.”

  “‘It’ is a she. Her name is Gwyrtha.” Justan explained, while checking his friend’s wounds. Somehow calling her an ‘it’ didn’t feel right. He examined his friend’s bleeding chest and was troubled. “Lenny, you don’t look so good. Are you ok?”

  Under all the blood, Lenny looked at him quizzically. “I’m standin’ ain’t I?”

  “No. You’re not. You’re sitting. We have got to get out of here. The moonrats aren’t attacking right now, but I don’t know how long that will last.”

  He reached out and helped the dwarf to his feet. Lenny was pale and he didn’t look steady at all. Justan noticed many wounds on his friend that he hadn’t seen before. The dwarf had been fighting for a long time to reach this place. He must have lost a lot of blood even before Gwyrtha bit him.

  There were many questions that Justan wanted to ask. How did the dwarf find him? Where was the rest of the caravan? Were they out looking for him? Justan was also concerned about Gwyrtha and what her bond with him meant for their future. But he didn’t have time for asking questions. The engorged moonrats were starting to stir and he didn’t know where the others had gone.

  He picked up Lenny’s hammer and strapped it to the dwarf’s back. Lenny didn’t even protest. He just stood there swaying.

  “Can you walk?” Justan asked.

  In response, the dwarf’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell over unconscious. Justan quickly bent to try and pick his friend up. A nearby moonrat roused itself enough to hiss and snap at him. Justan paused and lopped the beast’s head off, then again tried to pick Lenny up. The dwarf was far too heavy for him to sling over his shoulder. It was like trying to pick up a boulder. Justan grunted in frustration. He couldn’t carry his friend. There was only one choice left and he wasn’t looking forward to the confrontation.

  “Gwyrtha, I need your help.” He sent her mental pictures of what he needed her to do. She glared at the unconscious dwarf. She would rather leave it and let the moonrats feast on it than carry it on her back. Again Justan loaded her with his feelings for the dwarf and tried to include an understanding of the situation they were in. “Please.” She reluctantly plodded over to the dwarf, hissing in disgust the whole way.

  Justan tried to pick Lenny up so that he could throw him over her back, but for some reason the dwarf wouldn’t budge. He tugged again and saw that Gwyrtha was resting one foot on Lenny's back.

  “Gwyrtha . . .” Justan rebuked.

  She snorted and moved her foot away, presenting her backside to him. It was a struggle, but Justan was able to hoist the dwarf over Gwyrtha’s back. Luckily, the dwarf had rope in his pack and Justan was able to tie him down.

  Several of the moonrats were over their grogginess by now and while some of them crept away, others were snarling and chittering at him. Justan slashed any that got too close with quick slices of his twin blades and bade Gwyrtha to move out.

  The forest was still teeming with danger. He knew that they would make much better time if he weren’t walking. Justan asked Gwyrtha if she could bear the weight and got an affirmative grunt. He leapt onto her back and leaned over the dwarf to hold on to her mane.

  She knew what to do. Gwyrtha moved forward quickly, but carefully, aware of the riders on her back. She didn’t like carrying the dwarf and let Justan know about it too. She sent sulky emotions over to him repeatedly through their bond, but it didn’t slow her down. Gwyrtha seemed to know where she was going, so Justan just concentrated on holding on and looking out for danger. He felt vulnerable on her back. He had to use both hands to hold on to Gwyrtha’s mane and he wished he could have at least one weapon on hand ready for use.

  As they traveled, the tops of the trees grew closer together and Justan realized that they were heading deeper into the dark wood. The light dimmed more and more as the tangle of tree branches blocked the sun's rays. Gwyrtha’s agility saved them many times over in the dark. She was miraculously able to avoid most obstacles, but several times Justan had to duck under low branches and once he was knocked off her back and had to climb back on.

  The chittering moan of moonrats was a constant presence in this place. Even though Justan was extremely tired after the long night and fierce battle, those calls still pumped enough adrenaline in his veins that he remained wide awake.

  The further they traveled the more dangerous their surroundings became. Pairs of glowing eyes were scattered through the darkness. Justan could also make out all kinds of brightly colored snakes and spiny-looking beasts gathered in the dark woods. Justan sent many questioning messages to Gwyrtha about their chosen path, but she seemed so sure of her direction that he finally let it be and trusted her sense of direction. Whenever he could free a hand, Justan reached down and felt Lenny’s leathery neck for a pulse. It was there, but faint.

  The forest grew fouler and darker until eventually they reached a place where the darkness was complete. The air reeked of mold and death with fumes that seemed to clog their throats. Skeletons of various animals littered the forest floor and there was a gooey substance on the ground that sucked at Gwyrtha’s feet with every step. She sensed the danger and picked up speed, surging out of that part of the forest as fast as they could.

  As soon as they left the foul place behind, a glimmer of daylight pierced the darkness. Justan took a deep breath, grateful for the fresh air. Though they had escaped from the source of the rot, he could still smell it on his clothes and it felt as if it coated his lungs.

  They journeyed in this manner for hours. Justan grew used to the movements that Gwyrtha made as they traveled and was able to adjust his body accordingly. Even so, he ached all over from the past day’s activities. His skin itched and chafed from the many tiny scrapes and bites, his calf throbbed stiffly, and his spine ached with every movement from the stress of getting used to Gwyrtha’s strangely feline gait.

  As the immediate danger subsided, Justan's exhaustion caught up to him. The stress of the day, along with his body’s tired condition, led him into a half-awake state where, though his body automatically shifted with Gwyrtha’s movements, his mind went in alternate directions. It was in this state that something strange happened to him. It started out as just a blurring of his vision. Then, though his eyes were open, he started to dream.

  These dreams started out as faint visions and then they came with startling clarity. He saw moonrats tearing each other into pieces while Jhonate ran through the forest shouting his name.

  The scene blurred and shifted to the caravan. Valtrek was standing by Vannya, pulling her pretty face off like a mask to reveal another face that was obscured by blowing hair.

  The scene shifted.

  Justan could sense that somewhere two monsters were out hunting for him but they didn’t know it.

  The scene shifted.

  There was a puny stick of a man that stood above the known kingdoms and plunged a wicked knife into the earth. Where the knife penetrated the rock, a wound appeared and monsters poured out by the hundreds until the land was swarming with them.

  The scene shifted.

  A tiny figure was being chased by hellish creatures. It landed on Justan’s shoulder and refused to leave.

  The scene shifted.

  The Scralag stood before him and cradled him like a parent would. But everywhere it touched him it left an icy scar.

  The scene shifted.

  Justan confronted an evil being so vast that it filled the world. It reached one clawed hand into his soul and ripped all of his strengths away, leaving him puny, naked, and alone.

  –Blur-

  Justan’s father was standing in front of him. With a sad expression on his face, Faldon raised his famous sword, the Monarch, and stabbed it into Justan’s ear.

  The searing pain was so real, it jolted Justan awake. He heard a chittering hiss fade behind him. Justan reached up to find that his ear had been torn open.

/>   Gwyrtha wasn’t running as smoothly as before. Justan sensed an urgency in her thoughts. The path was shrinking and she was tiring. Her breathing was rough and the equine portions of her pelt were lathered up. Justan was amazed that she had been able to keep up this mad pace for so long.

  He looked around and realized that they were through the dark part of the forest, but the moonrats were once again lying in wait. The chittering creatures were all around them, staring with their luminous eyes, and moaning their awful moan.

  Gwyrtha dodged between the trees, avoiding clumps of moonrats and trampling any individuals that got in her way, but soon the creatures were so thick in the air and on the ground that there were not many places left for her to go. It seemed as if the squirming mass of chittering beasts could simply cave in on the companions and kill them with the sheer weight of their thrashing bodies.